


The Decoy Groom

by andysmountains



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Decoy Bride (2011)
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Movie AU, Novelist John, Pining Sherlock, Scottish Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-06 03:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andysmountains/pseuds/andysmountains
Summary: After being dumped by his bastard of a fiance, Sherlock returns to his home, a small Scottish island by the name of Hegg, to go "man vegan." Unfortunately Sherlock's plan is ruined when "celebrity" James Sholto and his fiance, the novelist, John Watson arrive on the island and Sherlock is forced to act as a body double during the ceremony in order to catch the men who are threatening Sholto's life.A Decoy Bride AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my betas Rache and Ollie for dealing with my antics.

_“The sea turns and shakes its manacles of salt at the sharp waves on which too many waves have died.” -The Ornithologist's Husband_

 

Curling his fist around the aging ship’s railing, Sherlock wished the rickety, rusted ferry would sink straight into the sea before he had to face his brother without the fiance he had hinted to.

 

He could pretend that Sebastian had had an urgent case that needed attending to in Edinburgh, but the lie would buy him only precious few moments until Mycroft’s face slipped into its most heinous expression. One of pity for his younger, newly cheated on and dumped brother.

 

Instead, Sherlock ceased toying with the one remaining artifact from that ill fated romp into sentiment, held it glittering in the weak summer sun, and without fanfare or regret dropped it into the waveless water that surrounded him.

 

If only the cure for a broken heart was as simple as that, as having the ocean swallow it down into its icy depths, Sherlock would jump down and join his, _not_ his, not anymore, _the_ tumbling ring among the rocks and crags and monsters at the bottom of the sea. Giving up and letting this latest in a lifetime of disappointments beat him was too much to bear for Sherlock though, and so he stood staring down into the growing waves of the darkened sea as his boat approached the dock.

 

This return to Hegg, a drowned rock that not even the Vikings had bothered to conquer, hurt _almost_ more than Seb’s betrayal and Sherlock’s own ban from casework in Edinburgh. After his grand proclamations of life beyond this forgotten windswept pebble, Sherlock was now on the River Styx, floating towards damnation brought at the hands of 90-year-old amateur hedgehog eradicators and the Hegg Book Club.

 

In short, even without the humiliation of his recent break-up, the angry sea looked more and more appealing to Sherlock, the closer they drew to the island.

 

\----

  


As he trudged across the old stone of the pier, his nearly antique, barely wheeled suitcase snagged on a discarded and waterlogged copy of a tabloid and he was forced to kneel on the muddy ground to tear the soaked pages from his wheels.

 

In his mind, he vehemently cursed James Sholto and his upcoming marriage for feeding the vapid masses who wanted so badly to peer into other people’s lives and clogging up his bloody wheels.

 

Eventually he extracted enough mush, and he was able to take his first halting steps off the pier and onto the island, trousers covered in mud and the indent from his ring fresh enough to be visible to a keen observer. Within a few moments the rain began its assault, slicing almost horizontally through the air and clinging to his limp curls before straightening them with the weight.

 

Sherlock slogged through the ick and his ever growing sense of doom, until the Sunshine B&B loomed sagging out of the fog, as incongruous with its surroundings as it had always been. Creaking under the rain, the door groaned open to reveal Mycroft, dressed to the nines and arranging his wheelchair artfully, all while feigning a look of surprised unsurprise. The smug bastard wanted him to believe that he had known Sherlock would be returning at that moment, but didn’t want Sherlock to know that he knew.

 

“Brother mine, to what do I owe this surprise visit?” Mycroft asked, as if his charade had worked or he wasn’t secretly delighted to have his ne'er-do-well brother under his watchful gaze once again.

 

“Just thought I’d pop ‘round for a ginger nut, do we still keep them on the top shelf? Of course we do, couldn’t have us changing the very basis of our household, London might fall,” Oh _God_ , Sherlock was rambling like the idiot he spent his childhood trying to prove he wasn’t, “How’s the diet going? Or what about the issue in Yemen, I assume you’ve played a large role in that, haven’t you?”

 

Mycroft stared, unamused and unperturbed by Sherlock’s jeers.

 

“Once you’ve had your ginger nut, would you mind accompanying me to a wedding? It might give you ideas for your own _big_ day.” Fat insufferable ass. There was only one unmarried couple on the island and it consisted of his former paramore, Victor, and long time antagonist, Philip.

 

“Of course, you will need someone to butter the doors and help wedge you into the chapel. How could I refuse.” Hateful. It was all hateful.

 

\----

 

As they trudged through the muck and biting rain Sherlock fought the urge to jam a stick into his brothers wheels, just to get half the joy Mycroft was getting from dragging him to the disgusting display of blind optimism that was weddings. Instead, he tolerated his brothers insipid murmuring over true love and the lack of options on the island.

 

“There is someone out there for you, Sherlock. Someone insane and exceedingly agitating, but perfect for you. You’ll never find him if you’re hiding on this island, though,” Mycroft oozed.

 

“Good, I don’t want to meet him. He sounds like a twat,” Sherlock rolled his eyes, annoyed at himself for breaking his silence, “Anyway, I’m like kryptonite to men. Kryptonite wrapped in dynomite.”

 

Mycroft’s chair suddenly stopped, nearly throwing the man off. He struggled uselessly for a few minutes to free the chair from its muddy prison before Sherlock stepped in and pushed him free. Embarrassed by the obviousness of Mycroft’s embarrassment, he quickly changed the subject.

 

“So, what’s new on Hegg? What are the headlines. The gossip. What exactly have I missed.” It was far too much to ask for a murder but perhaps a robbery or _God_ some embezzlement would be found.

 

“One of Lestrade’s sheep drowned. They had to fish it out with a curtain rail.” Mycroft responded sharply and then was quiet, even going to far as to remove his hands from his wheels so that Sherlock was his sole source of movement as they slogged through the mud towards the church.

 

\----

 

When they reached the shelter of the church, he was again bombarded, though this time not by the rain, instead by a gaggle of 90 year old women acting as ushers.

 

“Mild out, isn’t it Mycroft? It’s this global warming.” As Sherlock removed his coat, the alpha of the group looked him up and down and with a sigh said, “Sherlock’s back I see.”

 

“Obviously,” he said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, “Are we too late?”

 

“Too late to marry him,” the leader replied, even as she wrapped him in a blanket and pushed him inside to avoid the groom’s car’s approach.

 

Like a newborn colt Sherlock stumbled into the church proper, just as the music swelled to a crescendo. Mortifyingly all eyes, including Victor’s, turned to him, drenched and wrapped in a threadbare white blanket that was older than he was.

 

Victor gaped down the aisle towards him, but only had time to stutter out, “Wh-”, before Sherlock heard the distinctive tap of Philip’s dress shoes striding towards him and suddenly he was knocked into the nearest pew.

 

“You’re too late, Sherlock Holmes. He’s mine now!” Philip hissed towards him before stretching his face into an almost manic smile and continuing down the aisle.

 

Even as he slumped down further into the rough wood of his seat, an elderly woman and a young boy who appeared to be her grandson leaned over towards him and whispered, “There’s always the Hirtan tinker. He’ll be visiting soon, come September. _And_ he’s keen to marry, on account of his leg.”

 

“I’ll marry you, Sherlock. How old will you be in eight years?” the grandson asked, leaning further towards Sherlock.

 

“Forty,” he answered, turning his attention back to the ceremony.

 

“Och, pity,” said the boy, “I could have gone to thirty-six.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Eventually we will earn the explicit rating but until then, sit tight! I'm hoping to update this every few weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the wedding and the beginning of Sherlock's descent into hedgehog fueled madness

Grains of rice flew through the air and towards the newlyweds, hitting them at just lapel level as they posed for their first photos together as a married couple. Philip’s manic smile broke every time they changed poses and he glared towards Sherlock. 

 

Sherlock, meanwhile, stood slumped towards the edge of the churchyard hoping to avoid all commentary on his inauspicious return to the island. 

 

“Ah, the return of the native,” Lestrade boomed as he ambled towards Sherlock, oblivious as always to his obvious discomfort, “That was quite the entrance, Sherlock.”

 

“And, in the continuing theme of my public humiliation,” Sherlock said straightening himself to his full height, “I may need my old job back.”

 

“Oh,” Lestrade paused, “And what happened to your fancy job in Edinburgh? Consulting detective was it?”

 

“Edinburgh didn’t sit well with me, Lestrade,” Sherlock turned in vain hope that he would see an opportunity to escape.

 

“Sherlock, if you don’t mind me saying, you’ve always had such… such a terrible taste in men,” Lestrade said earnestly, patting Sherlock’s shoulder lightly. 

 

“I know,” Sherlock said shortly, “I’ve gone man vegan. They say after the first six years you don’t miss them anymore.”

 

“Well, you’ve picked the right spot to try it. There are no single men left on Hegg after today, are there?” Lestrade paused and continued uncomfortably, “With the exception of myself.”

 

A pause stretched between them so long Sherlock thought he might snap with the tension of it, but before he was afforded that opportunity, Lestrade broke the silence.

 

“Well maybe we’ll be able to have a dance before the night is over,” he said.

 

Before Sherlock could respond, the alpha 90 year old teetered up to them and, as if she had been eavesdropping on them, said, “You’ll not be forgetting Hegg law, Lestrade. Tonight you must dance with us all. From eldest to youngest.”

 

With the look of a broken man, Lestrade turned to Sherlock and said, “Save me a dance for around 4 A.M. will you?” and was swept into the dance by the surprising strength of determined 90 year olds. 

 

Sherlock turned to slink into the shadows, but as he did he heard a familiar voice just behind him as Victor joined him at the edge of the party.

 

“So, how long are you back for this time?” Victor asked.

 

“Actually, I’ve been considering staying on the island, perhaps for good,” it hurt Sherlock to say, the depressing, heart wrenching truth of his circumstance.

 

“Ah,” Victor paused, looking down at his shoes, the same ones that he was wearing when Sherlock saw him last, on the docks yelling at him for leaving, “I thought you said nothing of importance ever happened here.” 

 

“Nothing is looking ever more enticing, lately,” Sherlock paused too before attempting a playful air, “ So, this is all very grown up of you, Victor. You’ve a husband, and a beard.” 

 

“Well, Philip thinks differently of beards than you. And marriage,” Victor seemed to understand the mistake he had made in coming over to Sherlock finally looked like he wanted to end their conversation.

 

“I’m happy for you, Victor,” Sherlock said.

 

Victor nodded once and melted back into the throng. Sherlock finally felt freed to escape the nightmare he had been living since arriving on the island and hurried back to his home. 

 

\---

 

The next few days were spent in a fog of bad telly, pointless annoyances inflicted on Mycroft and Sherlock’s scouring of the entirety of his home’s library. Eventually he found the massive tome, “The Ornithologist’s Husband”, the only book ever written about Hegg. Within a few hours he choked it down, highlighting every inaccuracy as he went, just to give him something to occupy his mind. 

 

Eventually, after even thoroughly documenting each flaw of the The Ornithologist’s Husband had lost its charm, Sherlock set out through the rolling hills to reacquaint himself with his home. Each day he set out in the early morning, carrying raincoats, food, water, and his notebook, he was determined to relearn every inch of the small island. Within the first days of his exploration, Sherlock discovered the rampant overpopulation of the island’s hedgehogs and decided to study them. If nothing else, there had to be a way that a murder could be committed using their spines, even if Sherlock had no idea how. 

 

As Sherlock explored, signs began to crop up throughout the main thoroughfare on the island, “Mori Marketing” had booked Lestrade’s decrepit castle to host what was sure to prove a disaster of a marketing conference. It wasn’t until he was stopped one day by two people in sleek black cars who were clearly not businesspeople that he paid more than the barest attention to the commotion being caused throughout the island. 

 

From outside their car Sherlock could observe that both people were ex-military, honorably discharged now working in high level security. 

 

“Good afternoon, sir, good afternoon, madam,” Sherlock intoned, hoping to glean more from them.

 

“Afternoon, sir,” they said in unison, before the women spoke up,

 

“We’re looking for the castle, quickly please.”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes inwardly, whoever they were protecting wouldn’t arrive for three days at least, they had no reason to snipe at him, but he volunteered to show them the way none the less. 

\---

Despite its seat in the middle of a small lake, the castle was an assassin or burglar’s delight. It was in ruins, half crumbled walls jutted out from all angles, water dripped from every inch of the ceiling.Curtains of ivy hung from walls, obscuring holes, hideaways, and places to hide weaponry. There were dozens of entry points and hundreds of hiding places within its borders. 

 

The tension poured off the pair in waves as Sherlock watched them survey their battlefield. Each time they noticed a new weakness of the place, Sherlock saw the woman’s shoulders hitch ever higher towards her perfectly maintained bun. After a few moments of observation, they took off toward the castle in unison, steps heavier than if they were headed to the gallows. 

 

Sherlock turned to head back towards his hedgehogs - whatever was going to happen here wouldn’t be happening anytime soon - and said, “And that was the last any of us saw of the Americans,” with a chuckle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John should arrive in the next chapter.  
> Also for anyone keeping track I'm only like 12 minutes into the movie lol.


End file.
